Knight's Tale
by Eduard Kassel
Summary: The breaking of the curse has awakened all of Storybrooke to the hidden past. Including a forgotten figure in the tale of the Evil Queen. The story of Sir Thomas the Black Knight, his rise to living legend, and the royal family that was his downfall. OC & AU Season 2.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own 'Once upon a Time'.

**Author's Note: **_Well this story took me by surprise. Honestly I was planning on foregoing anymore fics until I actually finished something. But I never saw this one coming. Because like 'Hachin' it did not come from my mind. _

_Not long ago my brother called me wanting to talk about an idea he had for a story. Having watched the first season of 'Once upon a Time' he was inspired for something he had never attempted seriously, a fanfiction. _

_So he came to me with the idea to see what I thought. What I thought, was that it was a good idea. Since he doesn't have an account here, and he does have a life we decided to collaborate on the story, with it being posted on my account._

_I could go on, but you came here for a story not lengthy Author's Notes, so E . W. & C. M. Kassel present to you:_

* * *

Knight's Tale

Father McCarthy paced the empty sanctuary of Saint Thomas', taking another pull from his pewter flask. He wore the black robes and collar despite being alone, but then he was always alone. Today though he felt it acutely, the shame burning bright like someone had kicked a wound.

The priest was a tall man, of lanky build. His hair was red and had begun to recede, his face showing the first signs of age truly setting in. As he paced the aisle flask in hand a weight seemed to be pressing down on him.

The Mayor's boy, Henry, was dying, probably dead by now. They had called him as usual, and as always he had passed the matter over to a nun. She would perform the last rites better, and he doubted either of the mothers wanted a disgraced priest intruding on their grief.

Poor Henry, he hadn't known the boy, his masses were empty things, exercises in futility. If the people wanted spiritual guidance they would go to the nuns, or the Pastor. Dr. Hopper had more custom than him. But even a recluse like him had known of the drama between the new sheriff and the mayor. Sad for the boy to be caught up in something like that.

Father McCarthy had hoped this polite exile at the least would give him a chance to start over. But Storybrooke was a small town. And if you didn't guard your secrets carefully the gossip spread like wildfire in a small town. The only challenge to his pariah status had been the schoolteacher, when everyone thought she had killed the blonde.

Things had been exciting in town of late it occurred to him. Not that it mattered to him, they were all stories he wasn't even part of.

He raised the flask to his lips, when it hit him.

It was like a strong wind, warm enough to be uncomfortable but not hot. And instead of pushing him, it went right through him. He remembered.

He remembered everything.

The flask fell from his hand to the floor, whiskey spilling onto the red carpet. He ignored it marching up the aisle to the altar. With each step his posture straightened, coming before the altar he stood tall. For a moment he bowed his head to the crucifix.

The moment passed, he grabbed the altar and began kicking the varnished wood panels. The kicks were powerful and precise, in a minute the wood was bucking and with another blow the wood was knocked in. A gaping hole revealed the altar to be hollow.

Kneeling he reached into the darkness, probing it with a slight frown. The frown vanished replaced with stoicism. He pulled his hand back, revealing a long broad sword in its leather sheath, with a wide black guard.

Placing the sword on the floor tenderly he pulled off his priestly robes, revealing jeans a black shirt still displaying his collar, a plain black belt with a steel buckle, and black boots that had seen better days. Tossing the robes unto the nearest pew he picked up the sword and marched out of the chapel swiftly.

X X X

That mist had brought magic with it. It had been obvious to him even if it had only created a greater confusion in several of the townsfolk. The return of the familiar warmth in the sword had been enough to tell him that; for so many others though it had been another layer of confusion as a new/old life was laid bare before him.

He knew what he needed to do when he reached the rally point that had sprung up. The sheriff's station, of course. In times of uncertainty people were drawn to places they associated power with. City Hall was too associated with the queen, so it was to the place of the Savior they came to plan, and to arm.

The heros were milling about like a lynch mob. Fairly well armed too, some had only shovels but a few more confident men, and Granny, had guns, no doubt courtesy of the sheriff. He didn't see them out here, so they must be inside.

The crowd parted before him. They were confused trying to place him from the world of their birth, and failing. Like them he had clearly awakened, the priest they had known was already a fading memory before the confident man carrying a sword that had surely followed them from the land of their birth.

No one contested his entry, not even the frowning werewolves, and he heard the croed whispering about him as he left them. Unlike when he was under the curse he didn't really care about the whispers.

"Emma, don't hurt her if she gives up. Heroes don't do that," a boy spoke with certainty as he entered.

"Kid, she lost and then made the curse. Giving up isn't in her dictionary," he saw a bearded man reply.

"Grumpy's right Henry, she is too dangerous, at the very least she needs to be locked up," Prince Charming said from his side of the table. The royals and the bearded man sat around a table holding coffee, and a pick axe?

"Where did yo even get a pick axe?" Princess Snow asked smiling.

"From the miners exhibit," Grumpy answered shortly, he picked it up as if his hand was made to hold it.

"You stole it?" Swan asked.

"No, it was already mine. And what are we standing around for, I for one am not going to let the Queen run off to cause us more grief," the dwarf huffed.

"Well said dwarf, someone has given her back her most powerful weapon. The longer she has to prepare the harder it will be to catch her," he spoke up entering the room fully. That got their attention, the sight of the sword prompting Swan to move between him and her son.

The only ones not to regard him with suspicion, were the boy and the Little Princess, not so little anymore. The boy watched him with an almost eager curiosity, while the princess was surprised.

"Sir Thomas?" she asked, already knowing the answer. The knight walked up to them and drew his sword. The Prince drew his and Swan pulled out her gun. Before the dwarf could intervene he placed its point on the floor as he kneeled before the late king's daughter.

"Your majesty," he addressed her.

"Do we . . . know him," the Prince asked.

"This, this is the Black Knight. I thought you were gone," she said motioning him to rise. That got the attention of the two men, and made Swan frown, no doubt irritated about being out of the know.

"Many things that were gone seem to be coming back, Little Princess. But for now we have affairs to settle with your stepmother," the Black Knight told them resting his sword on his shoulder.

X X X

He had compared them to a lynch mob, now that they were moving out toward the Queen's residence the parallel was even more accurate. There was impatient anger sparking in the air threatening to ignite. The conned had woken to the con and now sought their restitution.

Despite claims of righteousness, blood was clearly the currency this mass was hoping to collect in. Swan, Princess Emma, had sent her son away with the fairies. Sir Thomas had not been close enough to hear whatever hollow assurances she had made to the boy. Hmm perhaps not so hollow, Swan was of this world and likely mob justice did not appeal to her.

The only order was the three royals leading the procession, five steps ahead of the others. The Little Princess, all grown up, was front and center, unarmed facing forward both light and determined in her step. The tales had not exaggerated, she was far from the royal girl he remembered. Her husband and out of time daughter flanked her gun and sword at their respective sides, all the weapons the true queen needed for the coming encounter.

Sir Thomas kept pace with Grumpy, the dwarf's newly found brothers, and the werewolves with their rifles. Behind them churned the mass, inpatient, angry, and frightened.

And from somewhere ahead, Dr. Hopper emerged, more put upon looking than usual.

"Snow, Princess," he greeted moving between Charming and his wife. Charming was clearly annoyed but stayed quiet.

"Archie . . . Jimminy, where have you been?" Swan asked uncomfortable with the new name.

"Oh busy, lots of people needing help. And I'm here just in time," Dr. Hopper wiped his brow.

"Yes, though you should have armed yourself, I doubt the Queen will surrender herself easily," Charming told him.

"Actually, I was hoping we might avoid that," Jimminy admitted. Snow White looked at him as if he was crazy.

"You're trying to stop us?" she asked more stunned than angry.

"This is a lynch mob your majesty. And I've never known a lynch mob to lead to good things. If anything this will make her more prone to react violently, attacking her like this," Jiminy insisted.

"And what would you suggest? We send someone to negotiate with her? After what she's done there is no trusting her. You may be our conscience, but we can't take any chances," Snow answered as they drew closer to the elegant white home the Queen had made for herself. Charming drew his sword lifting it into the air, bringing the crowd to a halt.

The cricket turned man backed up ahead of them.

"Well I volunteer to go. Not a negotiation, I understand we need to take her in, but to talk her down if need be. Show her we want justice, not her head on a spike," the bespectacled man insisted.

"Speak for yourself!" Granny called. The mass behind them cheered in agreement, Sir Thomas rolled his eyes.

Archie took another step back on the sidewalk, brushing against the queen's lawn. He must have felt something, because he lunged forward back onto the street, before flames roared to life rising high around the house. The wall of flame sent the mob back, only the foremost holding their ground against this display of power.

Swan stepped forward and offered the Doctor a hand up from where he lay looking at the flames that had nearly claimed him.

"Well rest at ease, we know she's not in a surrendering mood now," she said pulling him to his feet.

Sir Thomas stepped up to the flames, in his black attire and his sword drawn he looked every bit a figure out of some legend.

"The Queen is not the only one to regain powers lost," he announced. He swung out with his sword, striking the flames. Impossibly the flames were cut, and fell away like reeds before a scythe. The man in black stepped through the breach the others running up to join him. Charming was nearly at the gap before his wife seized his arm, as the flames sprung up anew.

"Now what?" Red asked looking at the flames.

"I don't suppose anyone can magic up some water?" Grumpy put in.

"Can your sword do that?" Emma asked Prince Charming.

"No," her father answered glaring at the wall of fire.

"Well how about 911?" Emma asked. They all looked at her.

"What? Magic fire is still fire right?" Emma shrugged.

X X X

Sir Thomas entered through the front door, it was unlocked. That was both expected and surprising. Closing the door behind him he sheathed his sword. The house was beautifully decorated with a black white color scheme, but it had cold feel to it. Empty, an uninviting beauty; there was no doubt this was her place.

He climbed the stairs with restrained haste, she would be upstairs; above those on the ground.

The floor was darkened the lights out, save for one spilling out into the hallway from an open door. Silent as a cat he approached it hand drifting toward the nearest wall as he drew closer.

There she was. Sitting in front of a vanity mirror fully light as she touched up her make-up delicately. Like her step daughter the shortened hair made her no less beautiful, the attire of this world suiting her as well as gowns ever had. If not the fairest of them all, it was only because unlike Snow White she seemed to draw in the warmth rather than radiating it out.

She seemed calm for someone whose schemes had just unraveled so spectacularly. The Queen seemed to just be fixing her make up to go out on the town.

She stopped applying some powder to her face, seeing him in the mirror. Sir Thomas stepped fully into the doorway as she turned on her stool to look at him. His face was set stoically, hers was unreadable.

"You?" she asked raising an eyebrow just slightly. He held out a hand to her.

"There's an army outside here to kill you. We have to get you out of here, now," he said. Her lips turned up slightly as she took his hand.

They reached the backdoor of the kitchen with a brisk pace, he opened it, finding it had also been left unlocked. Regina walked past him and stopped on the grass to look back, her dying tree behind her cast against the flames.

"Go," he commanded.

"Until next time then, bastard," she remarked. Finally she turned her back to him and started walking.

The Black Knight closed the door, and drew his sword. Returning to the parlor he heard glass break and marched into another room to see a singed Grumpy dusting himself off in front of a shattered window.

"She's not here," Sir Thomas said. The dwarf fixed him with a glare as the roar of the fires dimmed outside and water droplets flicked in.

"You let her get away?" the dwarf demanded hefting his pick axe.

"She was already gone. Someone warned the Queen, and by the way your shoulder's still on fire," Sir Thomas explained. The Dwarf fixed the knight with his best glare before stalking off, no doubt to see for himself.

Sir Thomas walked back to the front door, to await the arrival of the royal family. There was much to do and little time to fulfill his task.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Once Upon A Time.

* * *

**Protector**

The sun beat down in a glorious summer day, not a cloud in the sky as birds flew and sang. Still thunder filled the air. The hooves of the stallion kicked up clouds of dust as it charged, the knight atop it clanking in his armor as he aimed his lance.

The knight's shield bore the design of a diving falcon; a lance struck the painted falcon truly. With a yell the knight of the falcon fell his horse galloping on without him as the power behind the lance bored into him. The crowd rose to their feet in the stands cheering.

The victor brought his black stallion to a halt and raised his broken lance acknowledging the commons. From boot to helm he was clad in black, even his shield was painted black, the only color the raw wood uncovered by the scars left on it by challengers.

The brightly dressed master of games stepped onto the field wearing his feared hat.

"Sir Hugh of House Talon has been defeated by unhorsing! The Black knight is champion!" he called. The crowd roared anew some women even throwing flowers into the path of the knight as he dismounted letting a page take his horse. Sir Hugh stood unsteadily with the help of a fresh faced squire, and lifted his hand in a salute to the victor.

"That was marvelous!" the princess gushed from her spot by her father's side on the royal awning.

"Really? One man winning every round is exciting?" her stepmother asked from her father's other side.

King Leopold patted his daughters hand before smiling at his wife indulgently.

They looked back to the field as the crowd cheered again, seeing Sir Hugh inclining his head to the Black Knight and leaving with his horse. Apparently the Black knight had chosen not to exercise the right to claim his foes mount. King Leopold smiled in approval before turning his attention back to his wife.

"I agree it is a rather brutal and repetitive sport, but we must honor the wishes of my subjects, and the skill of these fine men," he said. She returned his smile, dropping it once he rose from his throne and walked off.

The Black knight kneeled before the royal stand as the king descended the wooden steps onto the field. The smiling king stood before the kneeling knight while the Princess sat up straighter to better see the champion.

"Well fought, the tales of your skill are nothing but truthful I see. I arranged this tournament to celebrate my marriage to our new Queen and called on the finest knights in my realm to entertain her and my guests on this magnificent occasion. But I did not expect the most storied knight in all the lands to grace us. Remove your helm sir and accept your award, 500 gold pieces," the King proclaimed.

The knight lifted his plain helm, even the queen leaning forward to take note. His hair was red and cut short, a bushy red goatee dominated his face along with a nose that may have been broken once.

"You are too kind your majesty. But I have no need of rich prizes. I ask only that you give the money to those who most need it in your kingdom," the Black Knight answered. The crowd applauded, the queen rolled her eyes, and the king positively beamed.

"Such generosity, the tales say you are not only a man skilled at arms but a true paragon of chivalry, I am pleased to see it is so. I would offer you a place as a knight of my royal household," the king announced.

"You do me honor. But I cannot accept," the Black Knight said getting to his feet. The King frowned, and the princess wilted, at that answer.

"Why would you refuse such an honor," the King asked.

"It is true they call me the Black Knight, but my master died before he knighted me, and I would ask that honor of no other man. So I cannot be a knight of your court, I am simply Thomas the Wanderer to those who care to listen," Thomas answered. The king looked thoughtful then smiled.

"Then you shall have another prize, to be knighted by my hand before all gathered here, to wander no more," the king announced drawing a clearly ceremonial sword.

" . . . Your majesty is kind," the Black Knight said as the King stepped up to him with a group of royal knights.

"Kneel," the king commanded. The red bearded man went to his knee once again.

"By my authority as ruler of this kingdom, and before all these witnesses, do I dub thee, Sir Thomas the Honorable!" the King proclaimed taping the sword on his shoulders. The crowd cheered ecstatically to have witnessed such a momentous event.

"And now that I have knighted you, you must serve my house as a knight," the King smiled.

"Yes, your majesty," the Black Knight answered.

"From this day forward I name you the Royal Protector, to watch over my queen. To guard her from all harm night and day," King Leopold announced.

"How wonderful!" Snow White cheered. Her stepmother silently watched the man in black get to his feet. He looked at her past the king, the beginnings of a frown on his face. She herself wasn't thrilled with the idea and it had barely begun.

**X X X**

Meeting someone again, for the first time, was awkward, Emma had found. She sat at the kitchen table in the flat she had shared with her best friend, who was also her mother. And a man who was the right age for her to consider fair game for dating, which was also her father. Her only consolation for the awkwardness was Henry had been put to bed taking his well-intentioned enthusiasm out of the equation, and the fact that her 'parents' were equally uncomfortable.

"I'm so proud of you Emma," Mary Margaret, Snow White, Mother, said breaking up the silence.

"You're welcome . . . though giving Gold the true love was stupid," Emma admitted out. Darn it, she thought, why can't I just try and be happy about this? Yes it was weird and a little creepy, but wasn't this something she had hoped for and given up on?

She had just started to accept being a mother, and now she had parents of her own.

"Rumpelstiltskin, you were just another link in the Dark Ones chain of manipulation. Even with the Queen out there, he may be the greater danger," Prince Charming comforted her.

It was easier to distinguish him from David. Mary Margaret was bolder, held herself with more assurance, but she still seemed like the same person to Emma's eyes. But David had been so divided and uncertain, at least after he got his fake(?) memories back. Prince Charming was more focused, he was clearly a man who had set himself on his course and was ready to follow it through anything. He wore that sword of hers like he was born to carry it, the sword she had used to slay a dragon of all things.

Hadn't Henry said Prince Charming had slain a dragon? Did she take after him, or was the parallel part of Gold's scheme?

Emma frowned at the tea.

"I'm going to make some coffee," the blonde said pushing her chair back.

"Coffee will keep you up all night," Snow White scolded. Emma stopped and looked at her, neither was pleased at the tension. Charming broke it.

"I'm, sorry Emma, it's just hard. It seems only yesterday I was defending a babe in my arms. And now here you are, saving us," he smiled sadly.

That was what it came down too. She had lived her life alone, only to now find a family late in the game. They were parents, who even if it wasn't their fault, had missed much of her life. All because of . . .

"Regina," Emma said coming back to the table.

"Yes, she's like a curse herself. One that we can't seem to get rid of no matter what we do," Snow sighed.

"She did kill Graham didn't she?" Emma asked.

"He helped me escape her castle. When I asked him to come with me he said she held his heart," her father said.

"He was a good man, why did he have to get mixed up with her?" Snow wondered.

"Speaking of men, this Black Knight. Henry never mentioned him from the book. Where does he fit in?" Emma asked.

"He was my step mother's protector, bodyguard," Snow answered.

"What? And you just let him join up with us? Sidney tricked us into thinking he had changed sides," the sheriff reminded them.

"I had heard the Black knight was exiled and stripped of honor years ago," Charming mentioned.

"He told me as we searched the mansion, the Queen was responsible for that. My father was the one to banish him, but ruining lives is what she does," Snow admitted. She sipped from her cup only to realize it was empty.

**X X X**

The summer castle of the royal family was beautiful Sir Thomas conceded as he made his way down the sunlight corridor following a well-dressed serving man.

And it truly was 'Sir' now. He found it more than passing odd how that title had once been an obsession, and now when he received it unexpectedly he felt so little.

No he felt something, but not for the title he could now honestly wear in front of his name. For the third time his life had been rapidly turned on its heels. He was now bound by honor to serve King Leopold and the royal family, just this morning he had been bound to nothing but his code of honor.

He could only hope this change would be less monumental than the last two. He wasn't as young as he used to be after all.

He had turned his horse over to the stable master, who had assured him it would receive a place and the fine care accorded to members of the court. And it seemed he was just that, a member of the court of King Leopold. A steward had shown him to his new chambers, larger than he was used to and well placed , but not excessively so. Apparently there was an official position of Royal Protector in the kingdom's traditions complete with placement and privileges in the hierarchy. It was just that it had been vacant for many years.

Which begged the question of why? Why would King Leopold revive a position that had been vacant for his entire reign? King Leopold was well known to be beloved by his subjects, and respected by his peers throughout the realm. Why did such a man feel the need to retain a warrior solely to protect his family?

And what's more it had been implied by the king and made clear by the steward he was going to, in practice, be protecting the new queen. Thomas had not even known that the tournament was for a wedding. He really should keep better track of politics he decided. And it was strange, normally a bodyguard would watch over the ruler, or their heir.

So why make a point of him becoming the queen's shadow?

The servant stopped before a plain wooden door and made to open it. He stopped glancing back at Sir Thomas.

"The Queen is having tea on the north veranda, she is expecting you Sir," the man said. Sir Thomas nodded stepping forward as the man opened the door, letting him back out into the afternoon light.

The queen was seated at a small ornately carved table painted white. It was too fine to be outdoor furniture, they must carry it out just for the occasion he realized. She was dressed in a practical looking but very fine red dress with a high collar. Her hair was pulled into a braid that hung over her shoulder, a gold circlet resting on her head.

The queen watched him approach taking a sip from a tea cup enameled with a floral design. The tea set it belonged too was equally expensive looking, though the tea pastries were untouched.

King Leopold was not as rich as King Midas, but his pockets seemed to be more than deep enough.

Sir Thomas went to one knee before the queen as she coolly examined him. He became acutely aware that he was still wearing his clothes from the tournament. He was not a man to fuss over sweat, dust, and far worse, but it made quite the contrast next to this immaculate woman.

"My Lady, I am at your service," he said.

"Your majesty," she answered. He looked up and she smiled at him with cold amusement.

"I am the Queen, 'My Lady' is not enough. You will refer to me as either, my Queen, or your majesty. And in the future I expect you to make yourself decent for attending to me, after all the state of those who serve the court is a reflection on the court. And its very important to show the world a good reflection," she stated.

"As you wish, your majesty," he answered.

And to think he could be on the road, or training, or in a tavern right now. If only he could properly thank King Leopold for this honor.

"Well the famous Black Knight! Stand up, let me get a good look at you," she ordered. He stood, she remained seated stirring her tea cup, looking at him as if he were some curious menagerie exhibit.

"I thought you would be taller.

"...

"None of the songs mention you having red hair," she pointed out.

"No, they never do," he sighed.

"Hm. But they do talk about you as an invincible warrior, the only living man to have slain a dragon, and so many other fierce beasts. And of course they go on and on about your chivalry, refusing rich rewards or accepting them only to give them to 'those who need it most,'" she recounted. He nodded is head at that, as she laid her cup aside.

"The bards are kind, there are knights more honorable than me in the realm," he answered a bit shorter than he intended. He could recognize the mockery lurking behind her words.

"Humble too, how delightful," she smiled.

"Yes they also say you have traveled the world and come back round again," she pressed.

"I have traveled far, but not that far your majesty. And I hear the world is flat," he answered.

"And now you can add being a member of my husband's court as a capping achievement. Will they write a song about you gathering dust in the palaces?"

Sir Thomas bit his tongue. There was little doubt now that this was no simple meet and greet, she had summoned him here with the intention of humiliating him, knowing that as her protector he would be unable to defend himself.

"Tell me sir knight, how does it feel to be a whole man doing the job of a eunuch?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," Sir Thomas replied honestly puzzled.

"I'm sure you are aware of my husband's reputation; Leopold the Good, beloved by all throughout the realm. Well as good as he is, he is not without faults; He can be quite a jealous man. So he has acquired you and your impeccable honor to serve as my human chastity belt."

Sir Thomas' mouth had gone dry. Surely not, it was absurd, the greatest warrior in the realm reduced to the task of holding the queen's legs shut?

"I've always wanted to ask, they say you're celibate, is this due to honor or lack of potency?" the queen mocked her smile broadening as she watched the blush creep up the black knight's neck.

"You may have most of the realm fooled but not me, I wonder what it was you did to cause you to act so foolishly, it must have been truly terrible."

Sir Thomas was seething with anger, the last statement had crossed the line. He cleared his throat as some of the red drained from his face.

"Her majesty seems to be misinformed," he stated coolly.

"Really, how so?"

"You seem to be under the impression that I volunteered for this role, rather I was obligated to take it. If you take issue with me as your protector perhaps you should take it up with your husband, my _queen_." The Black Knight clarified his expression now set stoically.

"Ah, brilliant idea!" the queen mocked. "And what would you have me say?"

"Perhaps her majesty could suggest to the king that my time would be better spent defending his kingdom rather than guarding his new plaything?" he suggested.

The queen's mouth dropped open ever so slightly, stunned at the unexpected insult.

"Your majesty." Sir Thomas stated with a tiny bow as he turned on his heels and strolled toward the door barely flinching as the tea cup shattered just to his side.

A waste of what was likely very fine tea, he thought. And now the tea set would be incomplete, perhaps he had skirted the line of chivalry a bit too close.

Opening the door he could feel her gaze boring into his back. That was a bit impressive, he had been the recipient of a great many glares and she measured up fairly well. He noted a well-dressed servant was waiting on the other side of the door.

"Would sir, have any special request on the furbishing of his chambers?" the man asked. Sir Thomas closed the door and gave the man a sideways look.

"No, I may not be staying as long as I thought," he remarked. The servant looked after him puzzled as he strode down the corridor, then stopped. He turned looking at the servant.

"Is the king really concerned about the Queen's fidelity?" he asked. The servant coughed and glanced to the side.

"I am but a servant, it is not my place to know such things," he answered.

"Servants hear everything, when the nobles do think of you it's usually as animated furniture," the Black Knight pressed.

"Maybe so Sir Thomas, but we who serve the royal family know to exercise discretion," the serving man lifted his nose up. Sir Thomas held out a gold coin between two fingers, the servant smiled nose still raised.

"Word has gone round her majesty almost eloped with some young stable boy. She thought better of it of course, but his majesty is the type to worry," the servant reported. The Black Knight tossed the coin and the servant snatched it out of the air with practiced ease before making it disappear like a fair magician.

'What have I gotten myself into?' the Black Knight wondered as he resumed his trek down the corridor.

**X X X**

The amber liquid swirled over the metal gaining a bit of froth before vanishing down the drain. Sir Thomas set the tall brown bottle down with a thud on the counter. Nearly a dozen bottles of various alcohols stood arrayed on the counter in the vicarages modest kitchen, an additional four stood uncapped and empty on the other side of the sink.

Sir Thomas felt passing odd returning to this site of his false life, but he had nowhere else to go. He imagined across the town people were having similar dilemmas; Granny was probably fresh out of rooms while the night was young.

"We have recognized the dream, but have not fully awakened," the Black Knight remarked grabbing a whiskey bottle by the neck. He supposed he could have camped out, but it didn't feel right just now.

And it wasn't like the vicarage didn't meet his needs or offend him. His sole presentable grievance was the Father's profuse stash of alcohol.

Sir Thomas had enjoyed a good pint as much as the next grown man, but drunkards . . . He'd closed the book on that a long time ago, and the Queen reopening it with her curse . . .

He uncorked the bottle and made to turn it over.

"That would be a waste of perfectly good booze," a sly calm voice pointed out. Checking to make sure his sword was indeed still at his belt the former priest turned to see his visitor.

"Isn't waste a sin after all?" Mr. Gold pressed smiling as he leaned heavily on his cane. The Black Knight held the bottle out, the magic broker's smile widened and he limped forward taking the bottle. Reading the label the smaller man nodded with appreciation before taking a nip from of the whiskey.

"Lovely, you have good taste. Glad to see that hasn't changed," Rumpelstiltskin remarked. He replaced the cork in the bottle; Sir Thomas knew if he looked back at the counter the cork would be gone.

"I wasn't sure you would come," he admitted.

"I wasn't sure either. I imagine the sheriff and her family have been wondering what I am doing, but no one thought to call me up and ask for a word. What can I say, curiosity is one of my vices?" the Dark One shrugged.

"One of many," Sir Thomas remarked. His guest laughed at that and lifted the bottle in a salute.

"I want to make another deal with you," the knight admitted. Gold frowned and gave a long suffering sigh.

"It simply never fails. When I come to see them they assume it's for the rent, and when they come to see me, it's what can I do for them. Will anyone ever come by to see how I am doing?" Gold wondered.

"..."

"Well I thought that might be the case, after last time I am surprised you would come back for more," the magic broker admitted.

"I need a way to take someone's magic from them, forever," Sir Thomas told him.

"Well! That's quite the tall order isn't it?" Rumpelstiltskin commented.

"Name your price," the Black Knight demanded hand tightening on the grip of his sword. The other man hung his head and made a low hissing sound.

"Oh, that makes this so much harder! No," his head snapped back up.

"What? You never pass up a good deal, everyone knows that," the knight objected.

"Well the answer stays no. I have gone to great lengths to get my magic back, and you just might be thinking of using it on me. There just isn't anything you can offer me that would be worth the risk," the Dark One explained gesturing with the bottle.

"I could give you my word I will not use it against you," Sir Thomas offered.

"Ah, well there was a time that would have been worth something. But not so much anymore, sorry dearie," Rumpelstiltskin rebuffed shedding his restrained persona fully for a moment. The Black Knight glared at him, but did not deny it, the loan shark shrugged.

"Well if there is nothing else, I have an appointment. Thank you for the drink," Gold said turning away and limping out of the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway though and turned to look back over his shoulder.

"I was surprised to see you here. You were banished, and I checked in to make sure you had gone. Why come back?" the strange man asked.

"You have your secrets Rumpelstiltskin, I have mine, good evening to you," the Black knight answered crossing his arms. The wizard smiled at him and with a soft laugh turned away. Sir Thomas stared after him until he heard the muffled closing of a door.

Alone again he walked over to the kitchen window, which offered a poor view of the town. He looked out at the lights no doubt seeing others through this surreal time, and the darkness waiting like a patient cat beyond those spots. Everything had changed, but they were still far from the life they had known, in some ways it might be worse than the dream-life of discontent the Queen had trapped them in.

She was out there, somewhere in the dark, no doubt scheming someway to turn the situation back in her favor. But the day would come soon enough, and everyone in Storybrooke would have to deal being pieces no longer crafted to fit into this world, including her majesty.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer:_ We do not own 'Once Upon a Time'.

* * *

**Revelations**

The town meeting hall was abuzz, to put it politely. That fine old New England tradition of democracy in its simplest, perhaps purest form was proving somewhat less than calming. The sheriff, as the highest official in the mayor's absence, presided.

"Alright people, now that we have confirmed the new deputies and other business I move we select an Acting Mayor. I nominate . . . Snow White," Emma paused resisting the urge to say Mary Margaret.

"All in favor say aye," she ordered. There was a chorus of ayes, though not the overwhelming appeal she had hoped for. But no one dared to say nay when she gave that option.

'Take that Regina,' she thought as the secretary recorded the change in power.

Sheriff Emma Swann watched them like she was about read them their rights before stepping out from behind the podium. As she took a seat in the front row with her new deputies a dark haired woman in a jacket walked up to take her place.

Princess Snow White stood in the place once occupied by the Mayor who had been a Queen all along. The brave princess looked more than a bit out her depth as the grumbling and muttering continued to rise and fall among the populace. She had faced many challenges, and more than her share of uncertain futures, but never before with quite this situation.

"Alright so we have confirmed the seven dwarves, Prince James, Red Riding Hood, and her grandmother, as Deputies under Sheriff Swann in response to the current time of crisis.

"Before we proceed to the final item of this emergency meeting, are there any questions," she asked. A man sprang, up clearly waiting for this moment.

"What are you doing to get us home!" he demanded.

"What about the Queen? That witch is still out there!" an older woman shouted. The murmurs rose to shouts and demands in agreement with the two. The Princess raised her hands calling for calm and getting drowned out.

Scowling the Prince made to stand only for a thick arm to press against his chest.

"Hold your peace, the sister needs to do her job," Grumpy told the angry man sitting next to him. It wasn't that he wasn't upset at the situation but . . .

A gavel banged, thundering through the room. Attention snapped to the Princes, who in turn looked to the gavel lying on its side near her hand. It struck with another clap, and a third. All eyes turned to the back row, where the Black Knight stood, sheathed sword raised hilt first, holding it by the pommel ready to strike its tip on the floor again. He still wore the dark shirt but the collar was gone and he had shaved his cheeks, leaving only a stubbly excuse for a goatee.

As the Princess made to speak, he gave her a nod and sat down. The other townspeople that had come to their feet sat again following his example. The hall was silent, attention drifting back to the podium piece by piece. Realizing she had their actual attention now Snow White cleared her throat.

"The Queen has vanished, possibly to a long prepared retreat. The new deputies will be working to track her down, along with investigating Rumpelstiltskin. If you encounter either of them or receive any information of their whereabouts or activities report it to the sheriff's office or the nearest deputy immediately. I do not need to remind you of how dangerous they are.

"However, as that investigation is ongoing I believe we need to address the greatest issue facing us, breaking the curse so we can all return home. I assure you we will be working constantly on ending this nightmare and setting everything right.

"The Blue Fairy will be helping us with this along with her sisters. Anyone with knowledge of magic is free to volunteer to help us. But be warned, the curse is deadly, perhaps more so now that it has been wounded and magic set loose. See myself or the Blue Fairy if you wish to volunteer.

"Hopefully we will be home soon, but for now we need this town to keep working. Do not despair, we have woken up from the curse, and that is half the battle already won. If there is nothing else..?

"Then I adjourn this meeting," Snow White said picking up the gavel and striking it.

XXX

"Unicorns?" the raven haired princess asked as the Black knight escorted her through the open aired corridors of the palace.

"Real, but not something to approach lightly," he told her. It had become a game the Princess liked to pester him with, 'Real, not Real.' it had started with her asking him about adventures only for him to try and politely tell her some of it didn't happen.

Other children would pout at being told some of their favorite stories were make believe, but not this Princess. Instead it had become a fun game for her, learning where the fables ended and the truth began.

And it had quickly grown beyond just the stories with her taking advantage of his travels to ask about the world and most everything in it. A sweet child, if rather unseasoned compared to some girls he had meet. But that was the way with royalty he supposed.

"Are they grouchy?" she asked sounding a bit disappointed.

"No, more like picky. They tend to have rather strict standards for whose company they keep. For a unicorn to let you touch it, that alone is a great honor," he told her looking up into the clear sky.

"Have you touched one?" she asked. Looking at the flower pot they passed she missed the faraway look in his eyes.

"No, but I have seen them, beyond my reach," he admitted. He found himself getting a bit tired of this game.

"Genies?" she asked.

"I have never met one. But in Agrabah I heard enough stories of a genie in a lamp that I won't say they aren't real. They say the last master of the lamp threw it in the sea, perhaps it will wash up someday and you will be able to tell me if genies are real,' he told her. She smiled at the thought of something so wondrous. If half of what he had heard about genies was true, he hoped that lamp would stay at the bottom of the sea.

"Princess, its time I returned to the Queen, it's almost time for your lessons," Sir Thomas reminded her. She grabbed his wrist and looked up at him.

"I'd like to see her, there's time," she assured her.

"As you wish princess," he allowed.

As they reached the queen's apartments the Princess spotted a pair of birds perched outside a widow. She threw it open and began to sing. Almost dancing ahead of his longer strides the birds flew around her singing along.

He smiled at the sight; no wonder the girl was the darling of the palace. Like unicorns birds did not come to just anyone when called.

"You're bringing those in here," the Queen's voice cut through the scene. The birds landed on Snow Whites shoulders as she stopped to look at her stepmother. Sir Thomas admitted she was quite the sight. As ever she was dressed up in elegant fashion such as only the wealthiest could afford, but not with the excessive show of wealth he would expect from newly minted royalty. Still the new Queen had presence, no one could deny that.

"You really can be quite inconsiderate, little princess," the queen said swooping from her doorway. The birds took flight as she drew close, one brushing the black knight's ear as it passed. The Princess for her part was confused by the words, reading her the Queen went on.

"You bring those, animals in for your little games. They get bird dung everywhere, and feathers, it's not very hygienic. And it's more work for the servants.

"But as long as the little Princess is happy, I guess that doesn't matter," she said sweetly plucking a blue feather from the girls shoulder.

"Well said, your majesty," a cultured woman's voice cut through the scene. The queen's smug condescension vanished as her eyes snapped from the girl to look around frantically for the new comer.

"Footsteps were now audible and the Black knight turned to watch three new arrivals approach. A serving man bowed to the knight and royals.

"Lord Henry of Greymill, and his Lady wife; father and mother to the Queen," he announced. The Black knight had no doubt about the woman getting a good look at her, the Queen had a bit of her father sprinkled in, but her mother dominated. And not just the bloodline, if the way Lord Henry stood a bit too far and behind from his wife was any indication.

"Hello father, mother. I wasn't expecting you," the Queen said her face becoming too clearly a mask for the smile to be genuine.

"We let his majesty know, but asked he keep it a secret. A little surprise for his lovely queen," Lady Greymill said.

"How nice," The Queen remarked.

"You are looking lovelier than ever Regina. The royal airs suit you," Lord Henry said coming forward. The Queen smiled, a small but far more genuine expression than the mask. But a sideways glance from his wife sent him back, and the Queen closed back up.

"And the little princess! You are just sprouting like a flower. Soon you will bloom into a fair woman," the Lady smiled down at the girl . Snow White beamed at the easy praise, the Black Knight found he did not like this woman getting close to the princess.

He was not superstitious, but he had learned time and again that you ignore gut instinct at your own peril.

"I don't believe we have been introduced?" she turned to meet his weighing gaze. He noted the servant had run off, understandable there was tension here and no good came from the help getting caught up in their employers' drama.

"My lord, my lady, I am Sir Thomas, the Royal Protector," he gave them a slight bow which the greying lord returned. Lady Greymill may have tilted her head; she seemed more focused on studying him. Like a knight sizing up his opponent before a joust. He had walked too many roads to not know a dangerous woman when he saw one.

"Ah the famed Black knight, the armor should have been a giveaway," the Lady smiled politely if without warmth. The lord stepped forward and offered his hand.

"It is an honor, Sir Thomas," he said. The Black Knight took the hand and they shook. This man's eyes were kind, intelligent too, but he seemed . . . tired?

"Well, now that introductions are out of the way, why don't you take the princess along? I'm sure she has a full schedule, heir to the kingdom and all that comes with it," the Lady chirped.

"She does, but my place is with the Queen," he answered. He did not see the Queen's posture droop for a moment, the Princess saw it but was puzzled by it and would soon forget. He did see a gleam in the lady's eyes, it was gone quick as it came; but he knew he had seen it.

"Well she can spare you for a bit to catch up with her dear mother. The little Princess shouldn't go around unescorted," Lady Greymill told him. He was inclined to agree, the princess was far more pleasant company, and these two women alone would not pleasant company, much less together. But he had been putting duty before desire for years . . .

"I will escort her. We haven't really had a chance to talk, the little princess and I," Lord Greymill put in stepping forward. He flinched at his wife's glare but did not back down. The princess looked torn, glancing to her latest favorite person, and then to the kind but boring face of the lord. Courtly manners seemed to trump girlish desires this time; she smiled and took the older man's hand pulling him off, before the Lady could protest.

"Wait till I tell you about the Tournament Uncle Henry," she said as they vanished from sight.

Their departure seemed to let the tension tighten across the room. Neither mother nor daughter seemed happy with him, but his own look said he wasn't leaving.

"Very well, you can guard the 'door'. It's not proper for a man, even a bodyguard, to impose on the private conversations of men and women.

"As you wish," he answered. The lady swept past Queen Regina to open the door leading into the chambers. The way she held it open, and the way the haughty Queen seemed to shrink walking past, it was somehow familiar. Like a memory half remembered but not fully formed.

Lady Greymill slammed the door shut with a bang. Drawn into his own head Sir Thomas flinched at the sound. He shook his head reminding himself to focus on duties. He took his place standing before the door at attention, the conversation behind him muffled by the door.

It rose in pitch, and volume. He almost smirked having seen something like this coming. Two stubborn determined women, as he had suspected, bound to butt heads. Then he heard what he recognized after a moment as a very loud slap, muffled by the door. Followed by a banging explosion.

'What the bloody hell?' he wondered as the screaming went up several volumes and became one sided. Turning he made to open the door, locked.

He kicked the door in, sword already drawn and stepped into the Queen's parlor. He was not sure what he had been expecting, but it was not this. Lady Greymill, red faced, teeth bared stood in the middle of the room, glaring at her daughter; who was pressed against the wall, untouched but clearly restrained.

"You ungrateful little bitch! After all I have done for you!" she ground out stepping forward. The Queen who had gained some leeway was slammed flat against the wall again. She said nothing looking back at her mother, then eyes flashing in surprise as they lighted on the Black Knight. A heavy hand came down on the witches shoulder.

She tried to pull away from it, but the grip was like iron.

"Unhand me!" she demanded glared as best she could into Sir Thomas' impassive face.

"No," he answered.

"She is my daughter, you have no right!" she shouted at him slamming Regina fully into the wall again. He tapped the tip of his sword on the stone floor.

"As the Royal Protector, I have the right to protect her from most anything, including you. I think you have visited enough for now." Or would you rather see how the king reacts to one of subjects attacking his wife in his own palace? Perhaps simply learn what he thinks of his new mother-in-law being a witch?" Sir Thomas told her. She scowled but lowered her hand, letting Regina fall to her knees.

When he let her go she immediately turned to slap him in the face. He didn't bother to turn his head with it. She looked surprised, and he felt a familiar tingle pass over him before the swords warmth smothered it passing through him. She glared at the sword, almost as angry with it as her daughter it would seem.

"My lady should leave, or perhaps you would like to hear the tales of the magic users I have defeated along with monsters?" he asked. For a moment it looked like she was going to hiss at him like a cat, but she composed her expression. With a look of refined distaste she glanced at her daughter slumped against the wall, and back to the Black Knight.

"You know, I have always hated knights," she told him as she swept out like an owl, not even bothering to close the door behind her. He closed it himself with more restraint than it had been receiving as of late, just in case.

The Queen's mother was a witch, this was not good. The Arts always turned black in human hands, and when they got power over others it was even worse. He had witnessed it first-hand. But thoughts of telling the king were forgotten as he turned his attention to the only other person left in the room.

He supposed he had expected her to be on her feet and admonishing him for taking so long. She wasn't.

The queen was sitting on the floor, back against the wall she had been pinned against moments before. She was a mess, her usually perfect hair out of order he noticed for the first time, and her dress ruffled by the rough handling via magic. She was staring out into space through her raven strands.

She did not look like the Queen he had come to know and barely tolerate.

"Your majesty?" he asked stepping up to her. He wasn't sure what he was asking, if she was alright, if he could get her anything, or if she wanted him to bring her mother back in chains for assaulting royalty? He had traveled far and wide for a long long time, and this was a situation frighteningly unknown, and eerily familiar.

Her eyes snapped to him. They were full of anger, not her scorn or irritation that she put on everyday like a favorite piece of jewelry, but real anger and he realized it was for him.

"Sir Thomas, I did not summon you," she told him coldly. Stunned he made to say something, but could find no words.

"Barging into my private chamber like a barbarian. People expect better from a royal knight, even one as uncultured as you," she told him pulling her hair back from her face.

"It is my sworn duty too-" the Black Knight began.

"To follow orders as well! Now get out!"

"You heard me, leave my presence immediately. I command it," she threatened him still sitting there glaring at him. Neck reddening at this ingratitude he was about to say something he knew he would regret, but didn't care about at the moment; when he saw it.

There in those blazing angry eyes, something else. Hidden well but now that he spied it, it loomed like a mountain behind a burning forest. Shame, there was shame behind that anger.

This anger was being thrown at him, but it was not all for him. No not even most of it he guessed.

The sword went back in its sheath, she watched him with lips trembling in what she wanted to be anger. He bowed decently at the waist.

"As your majesty commands," he said. Without another word he made his way to the door, taking his leave and closing it behind him. It was only just before he turned from the corridor he looked back at the Queen's door.

He raised a hand to touch his thrice broken nose. Long since healed, but just now he could feel the throbbing, taste the blood in his mouth. Beset by memories he wished were lost he marched off into the palace, seeking something to test his sword against.

XXX

"So what you're saying is you've got nothing?" Emma demanded. The Blue fairy coughed into her hand looking quite embarrassed. Snow White resisted the urge to scold her for being so blunt, but suppressed it. Sadly while before she could chide Emma as a best friend Emma saw it in a different context now.

'She's my daughter, my baby girl, and I'm scared of her,' she reflected miserably.

As Mary Margaret she had been able to reach out. Helping another woman who had been dealt a poorer hand. In fact it had humbled her in the face of her own problems. Emma had overcome so much, it made her preDavid issues seem so petty.

But now she saw her daughter, who had grown up alone and unloved. Who had been to prison. Who had given up her grandson to strangers because she saw herself as so much of a lost cause.

She had wanted to give her daughter her best chance, and had dared to hope she would be spared the fates of her own struggles. She still wanted to see the strong woman growing into herself from before the curse broke, but she couldn't stop seeing her failure as a mother.

"The Dark Curse has never been used before. We knew how to fight it, but we assumed all that was needed was the savior. I fear we tread tract-less ground now," the Fairy turned nun admitted. Granny smacked a hand on the table for attention.

"I know something we can try. Kill the person who cast the curse. If it is tied to Queen removing the queen may be cutting the final thread," the old woman proposed. There was a rumble of agreement, the royal exchanging wary looks.

"Which is not very helpful as we can't even find the Queen," Prince Charming reminded them.

"Red, can you track her?" Snow asked. The werewolf had changed into a jacket that imitated her old attire and looked exhausted at the thought.

"No, magic users can't be tracked like that unless they want to. Granny says it's because they have become even more unnatural than wolves."

"Perhaps we're asking the wrong questions," Doc chimed in from his place beside his bothers, "We don't know much about the curse, we can't find the only person who does, maybe we should be trying to learn more on our own."

The bespectacled dwarf turned to address the Blue Fairy directly, "is there anything you can tell us about the curse?"

The Blue Fairy sighed, rubbing her temples with her fingertips, "Not much, it's extremely powerful magic and it's composed of three threads. The first thread gave us our false lives, broken, the third which keeps us in this world, unbroken, and the second which confines us to this town.

"So why not look into the second one," the dwarf suggested with some frustration? "For all we know it broke along with the first thread."

"What good will that do us," Grumpy grumbled as he turned in his chair to face his brother? We'd still be stuck in the wrong world."

"At least it's something," Doc growled back, wagging a finger at Grumpy.

"I might have something even better," stated a small voice from the doorway. The Black knight had opened it to let the little hero who had set all this in motion in.

"Prince Henry," the Black Knight announced closing the door.

Emma had almost forgotten about Henry as he stepped forward book in hand, the same book that held guided him to her in the first place. He set the book on the table between his mother and the head fairy with a thud and opened it to a page depicting a man in a long coat and a large top hat with the title "the Mad Hatter" scrawled on the facing page.

Emma's brows knitted together in confusion, as she glanced at the picture of Jefferson, her first doubts, but it had not been this. "Have you shown me this one before," she asked perplexed?

"Nope, this is a new one, it's been showing me new stuff ever since you broke the curse," Henry replied as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

"Look," he said as he closed the book and reopened it to a random page. At first it appeared to be blank, but as they watched the picture of the hatter rematerialized as if it were being painted by an invisible brush. Emma's frown deepened as the Blue Fairy leaned in for a better look at the apparently magical book. Henry, seeming not to notice his mother's look of concern turned the page revealing an illustration of the hatter and a woman with long brown pigtails standing in front of what looked like a purple tornado.

"His hat is magic, it lets him travel between worlds," Henry recited as if it was boring. "The book calls it _World Walking._"

Emma's expression turned from concern to interest as a murmur of excitement passed through those gathered. She turned to the Blue Fairy and addressed her in hushed tones.

"What do you think of this," the sheriff asked the former Mother Superior?

"It's definitely worth looking into," the fairy replied. "If we can't break the curse maybe we can find a way around it."

"You should be wary of this book little prince," Sir Thomas said stepping up to look at the magic book.

"Why? It's been helping us, from the start," Henry said.

"Exactly, your Highness they say you gave him the book, do you remember where you found it?" Sir Thomas asked Snow White. She made to answer but her mouth shut and she looked troubled.

"I remember always having it," she admitted.

"Then it's either magic strong enough to have shined through the curse or it was placed by the Dark One or the Queen. And now it has changed. Before it may have been a harmless tool to guide your quest, but now it is awake, and who knows what powers it may possess," Sir Thomas pointed out. They all looked back to the book, wonder replaced by wariness, most of them flinching when henry shut it and pulled it close.

"The book isn't evil," he stated with certainty.

"We're not saying it is Henry. But it doesn't have to be evil to be dangerous," Jimminy spoke up.

"He's right son, perhaps we should-" Doc began before the Blue Fairy cleared her throat.

"The book is magic and it belongs to Henry, taking it from him would be unwise. Especially if we do so only motivated by fear," she told them. Emma frowned, her concern for Henry being near something so potentially dangerous warring with the determination on her sons face.

"Good or bad, magic always comes with a price," Sir Thomas spoke. Emma glared at him, before turning to Henry.

"Henry you have been right about most things so far, if you think the best place for the book is with you," she left it hanging. His face light up, she had chosen to trust him. It made her feel good, not noticing the looks on her own parents faces passing briefly seeing the moment of connection.

"So be it then. Onto the matter of the Hatter, my Queen?" Sir Thomas asked Snow White. The royal woman cringed.

"Please stop calling me that, Regina was Queen, and it will be a long time before that name really belongs to anyone else," Snow White told him.

"Fair enough, what would you prefer to be called then?" the knight asked.

"Your majesty will do," Snow answered. Sir Thomas nodded in acknowledgement.

"Your majesty?" Emma asked with a playful smile.

"I'd ask him to call me Snow, but I doubt he would even if ordered," her mother explained. Sir Thomas shrugged.

"The world walker, your majesties?" the Blue Fairy pressed.

Emma hadn't seen the hatter since their last encounter, one she wished she could forget and while going back to his mansion in the woods wasn't an appealing proposition she'd be ready this time and she wouldn't come alone.

XXX

Emma stepped out of her car looking up from the driveway at Jefferson's mansion. The Hatter's house, the Mad Hatter. A number of things had scared her since coming to Storybrooke, the greatest being nearly losing Henry.

But her night under the Hatters power had been like a surreal nightmare, as if for that brief time he had waded into the madness of that man's personal hell. Up to her neck with the waves licking at her face.

Even more than Regina she had regretted circumstances didn't allow her to do something about the dangerous maniac.

Except she now knew he had been right. But he had still been unbalanced. She could hope the breaking of the curse, though incomplete would bring him closer to earth. But something told her their luck didn't stretch that far.

"A plush prison, but I have seen better," Sir Thomas remarked walking around the car to join her. She watched him, sword sheathed but resting on his shoulder in a pose reminiscent of Paul Bunion. He knew what was likely waiting for them, but didn't seem phased in the least. Which seemed to fit with the reputation he had with the others.

But Henry had never seen him in the book, and she was not a trusting person.

She wished she could have someone she trusted with her, but she had been overruled. They had quickly agreed she would be the one to go, Jefferson had some kind of belief in her, and she had been able to handle him with help last time. And it seemed they sort of assumed it was a task for her. All the dwarfs had wanted to go as her deputies, but that was no good. Jefferson would not take being mobbed well. Two people seemed the better choice. Mar-Snow, had wanted the job and been shot down, so had the Prince.

Then Sir Thomas the latecomer had volunteered. After all he was the royal protector. One of the dwarves reminded him he had been dismissed in disgrace, so Snow White as the current ruler had appointed him on the spot.

We're mixing mayors and deputies with Princes and Knights, no wonder Jefferson went over the edge, Emma thought sullenly.

"Shall I go first princess," he asked?

"Why do you keep calling me Princess?" Emma demanded.

"Because you are one," he explained.

Emma sighed, she didn't like him and she couldn't quite pin point why. Maybe it was how he showed up out of nowhere and inserted himself right into the thick of things; maybe it was how everyone else seemed to be in such awe of him. Or maybe it was his time spent with the queen, Snow had implied that he had been the royal protector for years and wasn't it just so convenient that he had been the first one into Regina's house and that she just so happened to already be gone….

"Well call me something else. And besides, shouldn't a warrior let a lady go first?" she forced some humor.

"An irresponsible one, the warrior should go first in case there's danger," Sir Thomas answered flatly.

"I'll go in. And don't drink any tea if he offers it," she added checking her sidearm.

"No need to worry princess, I am not fond of tea," he told her as she walked up to the door.

"I told you not to call me Princess," Emma sighed rolling her eyes.

"Fine, then what would you have me call you," the Black Knight replied, making more of an effort to hide his annoyance.

"Sheriff, call me sheriff," Emma answered curtly.

"Very well sheriff," Sir Thomas returned with a little too much emphasis, "ladies first."

Emma took the handle, and was surprised to find the door unlocked. She winced internally as it completed its rotation, half expecting a trap door to open and drop them into a dungeon or something.

"Oh crap," Emma said as she walked in. She continued into the parlor followed by the knight. The house was a wreck, furniture turned over decorations broken or scattered like there had been a struggle.

Emma drew her gun instinctively, and glancing back she saw that the Black Knight had already drawn his sword. Emma gestured with her head for Sir Thomas to keep to the right side of the room, the knight nodded in understanding and did as she asked.

They made a quick sweep of the mansion's first floor, communicating wordlessly as the crept from empty room to empty room. Emma couldn't help but be impressed with how the Black Knight acquitted himself to the situation picking up her gestures immediately, returning them when needed and for a man his size he moved very quietly.

"Like a big black cat," Emma thought as they completed their search and returned to the parlor having found nothing. If an outsider had done this they were gone now.

"Regina?" Emma wondered aloud.

"A bit crude for her," Sir Thomas commented. Emma agreed, Gold maybe, but no he was more conman than thug. But then again what did she know about what they would resort to.

But she did know what room would hold answers if there were any to be found here. The center of Jefferson's sad little world, the Hat room.

XXX

The door was open, not wide but just cracked. Sir Thomas had positioned himself beside it his hand pressed against the cold wood, ready to push it open when signaled. Sheriff Swan stood opposite the door, her gun at the ready just in case. She gave a slight nod and the Black Knight pushed the door open. What she saw made her pause, unlike the rest of the house this room looked intact, save for the mirror; a web of cracks radiating out from its center. And seated on the floor in front of the shattered mirror was Jefferson.

Wary but also somehow compelled Emma walked to look down at where the hatter sat. One leg was stretched out on the carpet while the other was pulled up to his chest a blood caked hand resting on the knee.

He didn't look at her, he just sat there staring transfixed into the broken mirror.

"Jefferson?" she probed, her eyes drifting to the mirror to see her own face reflected back at her a hundred different times in the fragments. His eyes slid over as his head tilted. He looked at her, the maniac glint was gone, but the emptiness she found instead was somehow worse.

"I couldn't make it work," he told her.

"The hat?" she asked delicately.

"You fixed it, and I knew it. I was so close to her, my Grace. But I couldn't, she remembers her father, to see me like this would destroy her. So I ran back . . . I couldn't make it work," he said dully.

"Hatter, we have come to you-" Sir Thomas spoke up.

"For the Hat?

"Don't look so surprised, no one has ever come to see me for anything else. Yes, it will work now. Not that it matters, there are no happily ever afters," he said looking away from Emma to his broken mirror.

"So you won't help us?" Emma pressed.

"Oh I will take you Savior. You just won't find what you want, there are no shortcuts," he smiled mirthlessly as he got to his feet, walking past the two heroes on this way out the door.

"Where are you-" Sir Thomas started?

"The Parlor," Jefferson cut him off again. "If we're going to do this we'll need more space."

XXX

The Mad Hatter set the hat on the floor brim down, with an almost absurd tenderness.

"Stand back," he sighed without looking up, as Emma and Sir Thomas took several steps back.

Satisfied that they had heeded his warning, or perhaps not caring, Jefferson gripped the crown of the hat with both hands and gave it a spin. Miraculously, the hat spun on its own like a top, faster and faster until it was little more than a greyish blur.

"Here it comes," Jefferson stated, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice as he scooted back to join the other two.

As if on cue, a purple cloud billowed from the hat growing in size and breadth until it formed the swirling vortex from Henry's book. Emma regarded this storybook illustration come to life with wonder, her mind drifting back to the picture from the book.

"I wonder… the girl with the pig tales," Emma digressed. "Oh of course, the March Hare" she exclaimed internally! Her self-satisfied smile, however quickly turned to a frown.

"Good God, I'm starting to get used to this," she muttered under her breath.

"Ladies first?" Jefferson offered before chuckling. The Black knight grabbed Emma's shoulder and Jefferson's stepping between them.

"It's always together," Sir Thomas injected over the sound of the whirlwind!

"So you haven't forgotten, Black Knight? Why did you come back? Did she drag you back like me?" Jefferson asked Sir Thomas as if seeing him for the first time. The knight did not answer, they stepped into the vortex, falling between worlds.

* * *

**AN:**

****If you are reading this, I hope you are enjoying this story. And now we start to get to the real events as the heroes start to take action in post Awakening Storybrooke. And of course there is Regina to consider, out of sight but certainly not out of mind; and Rumpelstiltskin with his lovely Belle doing who knows what.

There is a lot more in store for Storybrooke than Sir Thomas' unexpected appearance.

Until next time, long days and pleasant nights to you all.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer:_ We do not own Once Upon the Time or any other referenced works.

* * *

**Doors**

"Well here we are," Jefferson stated casually as he step out from the purple cloud, adjusting his shirt collar.

"Here we are where," Emma asked. World walking hadn't been what she had expected, in the end it was a lot like jumping through a hole in the floor.

"The hub," the Mad Hatter huffed. "Kind of a cross roads of the multiverse."

Whatever it was, it was certainly impressive, an enormous circular room with a shiny black marble floor and walls that resembled the inner lining of the hat. But most intriguing of all were the doors, all around them doors, each adorned with a symbol and marked with a number.

"Each door leads to a different world," the Hatter gestured dramatically. "There are nineteen in all, one for each lev-… Oh good grief," the Hatter groaned as he turned around to see the Emma and Sir Thomas had each wandered off.

He set off after the Black Knight first, who had stopped in front of door 15. Sir Thomas flinched as Jefferson laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Good one that," the mad man said, nodding his head at door fifteen with its depiction of an enormous baobab tree. "A world where humans don't exist, used to vacation there in a past life, but I think the door you want is number ten."

The Black Knight grunted and turned in the direction of the tenth door, frustrated that he had allowed himself to lose focus. The Mad Hatter seemed less concerned, such behavior was to be expected when someone was exposed to such infinite possibilities for the first time.

With Sir Thomas dealt with, Jefferson turned his attention to Emma. He quickened his pace as his eyes lighted on her and the door that had caught her eye. It was twice the size of all the others, seeming to tower over the entire room, adorned with the image of a great black spire rising from a field of red, door number nineteen, the final door.

Jefferson was almost at a run when he reached Emma's side, her eyes only flickering away from the door for a moment to regard the new comer.

"Where does it lead," she asked as if she was talking in her sleep?

"Nowhere that we want to go," the hatter replied, a hint of fear in his voice. Emma's ever wary mind got that fear, but the normal reaction was muted into only a passing observation. The door was really beautiful. She would call it a masterpiece and Emma wasn't a person who normally used words like that.

In fact she thought she could see incredible detail in the red field. Was it a field of-?

A hand slapped down unto her shoulder and tugged her back. She blinked awake, and confused. Jefferson removed his hand before Emma thought to glare at him. The state would have been like that of one either rising slowly from deep sleep or teetering on a brink of exhaustion when dream reality seems to intrude on waking.

He expected nothing less from that door.

"Sheriff, I believe you want door ten?" he asked softly. Emma stepped back from the door regarding it with wariness even if she didn't know why.

X X X

Door number ten wasn't nearly as impressive as number nineteen, Emma decided. It held a depiction of a beautiful white castle that The Black Knight identified as the Palace of White, the seat of power for Snow Whites kingdom.

"My kingdom," she thought no knowing if this was a question or a statement.

She looked with grim amusement to door number eleven and its depiction of a modern city skyline. For all of the curse's power it had only moved the people of the fairytale world one door down.

"Now then," Jefferson sighed, drumming his fingers together impatiently. "Let's get this exercise in futility over with, who wants to give it a try?"

Emma took a step forward, but the Black Knight raised an arm to stop her.

"Perhaps I should," Sir Thomas suggested, "it may be booby trapped."

The Mad Hatter scoffed at this.

"Booby trapped? This isn't just some ordinary door, _this" _the Hatter gestured towards the door, "is a door to another world, part of the very fabric of the universe. It can't be booty trapped by some spell."

"It's okay, I've got it," Emma returned reassuringly, spying the look of sincere concern on Sir Thomas' face.

Reaching for the plain gold door knob she braced herself, the Hatter had been right about most things so far and now would be a terrible time to…

"Locked," she almost sighed with relief as the knob refused to budge.

"What a surprise," Jefferson stated with no inflection. "Now if we're quite finished wasting time I…"

"We'll see a about that," Sir Thomas stated as he drew his sword and pushed past the Hatter (perhaps a bit harder than what was necessary) to get to the door. Before Emma or Jefferson could do anything to stop him, the knight jammed the tip of his sword between the door and its frame and set about trying to pry it open.

"Didn't you listen to anything I said," Jefferson squeaked in exasperation!

"Magic door, fabric of the universe, you can't possibly… well I'll be damned," the Hatter's rant dissolved into slack jawed amazement as he watch the door begin to give, as the Black Knight continued to pull with gritted teeth.

"This just might work, unless he kills himself first," Emma thought to herself as light began to pour through the growing opening and Sir Thomas, now beet red and sweating continued to pull.

They were so engrossed by the black knights efforts that they failed to notice a sound coming from behind them from the middle of the room; a sound like stone sliding across stone. In fact if Jefferson hadn't turned his head slightly to scratch his shoulder and spied something out of the corner of his eye they might have…

"OH SH-", the rest of the Hatters words were drowned out by a thunderous foot fall that sent Emma wheeling around and caused Sir Thomas to lose his grip on the sword, the door to slammed shut.

What they saw was a creature that looked like a combination of a badger and an armadillo, it stood about ten feet tall and appeared to be made from the same stone as the floor.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT," Emma shouted at a Jefferson!?

"A guardian," he shouted back over the sound of its footsteps. "They protect against intruders!"

"And you didn't think this would be worth mentioning!"

"I'd never met someone stupid enough to try to force open a hole in the universe, didn't think it would come up!"

Emma instinctively drew her gun, and began to raise it towards the obvious threat when the Black Knight stepped into her line of sight his sword resting on his shoulder just as it had outside of the mansion.

"I'll handle this," Sir Thomas shouted over the noise.

Emma made to protest, but Sir Thomas cut her off.

"Trust me, this is what I do."

"This is what you used to do," hissed a tiny voice from the back of the knights' mind. Ignoring it, Sir Thomas assumed his stance.

"This is who I am," he said to the empty air.

X X X

Steel rang against steel, men grunted with effort, and booted feet stomped on trampled grass. Twelve young men in leather armor circled one another wearily, blunted swords and iron framed shields at ready.

Sir Thomas walked between them, unconcerned even when a burst of melee between two large boys seemed to nearly pull him into the dance of steel.

It had been a little over a month since he had requested time for training and exercise be added to his schedule. The king had eventually agreed, allowing him to train while the queen partook in her daily riding lesson.

Sir Thomas had sat in on several of these lessons, and had found them to be not so much lessons as opportunities for the queen to show off her equestrian skills. He seemed to recall that the Greymills were horse breeders by trade and it appeared that she had picked up on quite a bit; breaking fowls, leaping fences and demonstrating trick riding that would have been more typical of gypsies.

Steel clattered as a sparring pair drifted into the knight's path, he paused to let them pass regarding their efforts with a trained eye.

"Keep your shield up William," he called to one of the boys!

This wasn't how he had envisioned his personal training, but he didn't mind much. It seemed that the royal knights of house White were notorious for treating their squires like servants rather than knights in training. It had only taken a few days for some of them to found out what he was doing, the first of them hung back trying to avoid detection (and failing miserably) clumsily mirroring his every move. By the time six of them started showing up he'd grown tired of watching them fail and decided to lend a hand. The rest, as they say was history.

Whoosh! The Black Knight had to duck as one of the blunt sparing swords came hurling towards him.

"Oh bloody hell, not this again," Sir Thomas groaned as he regained this balance.

"Andrew," he called to the supplier of the near miss!

"Andrew… ANDREW!"

By this time all of the others had stopped their sparing to see what all the commotion was about, all except Andrew, easily that largest boy of the group and apparently the most hard of hearing. He stood nearly a head higher than all the rest and was already strong as an ox; his poor sparring partner had dropped his sword and was holding onto his shield for dear life with both hands.

As the man-child drew his sword back for another heavy blow a hand clamped down on his wrist. Andrew's head snapped around, his face contorted into a menacing snarl that quickly vanished when he saw who had restrained him.

"Andrew, what exactly are you doing," Sir Thomas asked the boy impassively?

"Fighin'."

His accent was thick, not the typical third born son of some lord but a commoner. His master, Sir Lionel, fancied himself and artist and had likely chosen the boy for his ability to lug his art supplies everywhere.

"Really, it looked more like chopping wood to me," the knight returned. Some of the other squires chuckled at this but were silenced by a stern look from there mentor. Many of them saw Andrew as sort of a joke (though none were brave enough to say so within ear shot of him); an oafish commoner playing at being a knight. Bloodline meant little to the Black Knight, he saw great potential in this boy, if only he wasn't so damn stubborn.

"We've been through this before lad, precision before power."

"But I've disarmed my opponent," Andrew whined gesturing to his partner, who was still clinging to his shield.

"So you have," Sir Thomas replied indulgently. "Well, let's see how you fair against someone with a bit more guile. Samuel!"

At the sound of his name, a scrawny lad pushed his way to the front.

"Yes sir," Samuel barked!

The Black Knight smiled in spite of himself, Samuel wasn't the most promising of the squires, but while he had the body of a scarecrow he had the heart of a lion. More importantly however, the boy took his advice as gospel and thus was technically superior to his more athletic comrades, just the right combination to teach Andrew a lesson.

"I need someone to offer Andrew a challenge; do you think you can provide it?"

"Sir yes sir," Samuel replied, a grin spreading across his face!

The Black Knight's brows knitted together. True he admired Samuels's spirit, but at times he seemed a bit too eager.

"Then get to it lad, time's a wasting!"

The other squires began to form a circle as their two comrades squared off.

With a mighty grunt, Andrew swung as hard as he could at the smaller boy's head only to curse loudly as his sword sailed over its target. Instead of attempting to block the blow with his shield, Samuel had simply ducked his head, leaving Andrew so off balance that he nearly fell over.

"You're dead," Samuel brightly exclaimed, tapping Andrews back with his sword as he struggled to regain his footing! Andrew growled in frustration.

"Well done lads, now again!"

This Time Andrew started with an aggressive forward thrust, which Samuel side stepped easily, tapping his sword against Andrew's exposed belly.

"Dead again," Samuel trailed off as he saw the look of mounting frustration and embarrassment on Andrews face.

And so it went, round after round each ending in similar fashion. By the end of round eight Andrew was seated on the ground red faced and panting, his last wild swing having caused him to completely lose balance and fall.

"That will be enough Samuel," Sir Thomas dismissed.

"Yes sir," Samuel replied, all of his old enthusiasm now gone.

Grim faced, Sir Thomas stepped forward and offered the exhausted squire a hand up. The Andrew took it gratefully.

"So Andrew," Sir Thomas asked in a hushed tone, "what have you learned?"

"Don't over swing," Andrew panted.

"Because."

"It compromises balance."

"And."

"Leaves your defenses open."

"Well done Andrew, now go get some water," The Black Knight whispered, giving the boy an encouraging pat on the back.

"Enough sparring for today," Sir Thomas addressed the remaining squires. "I think you could all do to work on our accuracy, now line up for the shield drill!"

The boys collectively groaned the shield drill was a frustrating grind, one of Sir Thomas' personal inventions; a shield, separated into four colored quadrants, hung from a rope and set to swinging. The squires were to accurately strike the correct quadrant as he called them out. An excellent way to improve timing and hand-eye coordination or as the squires saw it, an excellent way to look like a fool.

When Andrew's turn came the other squires jeered at him.

"Careful Andrew, don't want to fall on your ass again," one of the boys called!

"Getting knocked down is nothing to be ashamed of," Sir Thomas chided them. "I myself have had my fair share of injures."

This seemed to capture the interest of the squires.

"Well come on then," one pleaded. "Tell us some Sir Thomas."

"Yeah, like how did you break your nose," another suggested.

The boys seemed to hone in on this last suggestion as the chattering turned into nods of agreement.

"That's a story for another time, now if we could return to the task at…"

"Ahem!"

The knight and the squires started at the unexpected sound, like a flock of birds freezing to listen at the rustling passage of a cat.

The queen stood at the gate to the training grounds, leaning casually on her shoulder. She was still in her dirty riding clothes, but despite that fact seemed as arrogant and fierce as ever.

Things had been bad between them; try as he might Sir Thomas couldn't look at Regina the same way since that day in her chambers. He had been charged with protecting her for months and much to his shame he had somehow managed not to know her at all. It was like he was seeing her for the first time in the weeks following the incident with Lady Greymill; how her sleep was troubled with near constant nightmares, how in the nearly six month he had been a member of the court the king had yet to summon her to his bed chamber, how she put on the air of haughtiness to hide her misery, and most of all how completely alone she was. The queen however, had mistaken Sir Thomas' sympathy for pity and had responded with resentment.

"That will be all boys," she cooed, wearing that wicked little smile of hers.

Without a moment's hesitation, the knights in training put their swords and shield back into storage and filed toward the gate to leave, each giving the queen a cursory nod and nervous acknowledgement as they passed. Each that is except for Samuel, who bowed deeply at the waist.

"It's an honor you're your majes-"he choked as Andrew grabbed him by the collar and pulled him along.

"Come on you bloody fool," Andrew growled, giving Regina a halfhearted nod as his dragged the smaller boy along.

"Something's wrong with that one," the queen muttered under her breath as she turned her attentions from the squire to the master.

"So, imparting your knowledge to the younger generation I see," she said, her sly smile having returned.

"Something like that," Sir Thomas replied.

"I assume her majesty would like to change clothes and tidy up before tea with the king."

"Oh I think that can wait, what I would like now is to hear the story about your poor broken nose," she answered with mock concern.

"… Not a very interesting story I'm afraid."

"So unwilling to share, now I am interested," Regina teased, her smile broadening.

The Black Knight tried to hide his anxiety, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance.

"I could just order you to tell me," she pressed. "But what would be the fun in that."

Sir Thomas stood his ground.

"I'm going wild with speculation, what beast was so fierce that it could injure the mighty Black Knight?"

Sir Thomas sighed and looked at the ground in front of him, the grass was turning yellow and the soil had been beaten down by countless booted feet. He took another deep breath, it was clear she wasn't going to give up, so might as well give her what she wanted. Better here than somewhere more public.

"That beast was my father," Black Knight answered tonelessly, still staring at the grass as if it held some great secret.

The Regina's smug expression was replaced by one of confusion; Sir Thomas continued still looking to the grass.

"The first time was when I was seven, the last when I was sixteen. He was always drunk and angry, and there was just something about me that made his blood boil."

A knot had started to form in the pit of the queen's stomach. All she had meant to do was embarrass him, not this.

'This isn't fair,' she thought, frustrated at her own thoughts. He glanced at her finally, and she wasn't sure what kind of face to show. Whatever she showed him, it didn't seem to hold his attention as he looked away into space.

"But I would have endured any number of broken bones if it meant not having to watch him beat my mother and my little sister," Sir Thomas concluded, his voice wavering slightly despite his best efforts.

"I'm… I'm so sorry," Regina choked in a tiny voice.

"It is what it is," Sir Thomas shrugged, "and all of the I'm sorrys in the realm will never change it."

He looked to meet her gaze.

"But you already know that."

Regina looked away, she felt sick. She couldn't even bring herself to call him on the omitted title. Sir Thomas felt a twinge of remorse as she seemed to shrink under his gaze, the same way she had with her mother.

For a time neither of them spoke, allowing the silence to hang heavy between them. Unknowingly each of them pondered the same fact, how quickly the feel of a place can change, and usually for the worse.

"Perhaps a walk through the palace gardens would suit her majesty better today," Sir Thomas suggested in his normal tone breaking the silence.

"Yes, that will do," Regina answered tentatively meeting his gaze.

And the two of them set off for the royal gardens, the Wicked Queen and the Black Knight.

XXX

Steel sang as stone and earth parted in the wake of the Black Knight's sword. The guardian's rattling snarl faded as it slumped to the floor. If his count was right that was the sixth mortal blow he had dealt this creature, but the blasted thing just won't die. Even as he watched the creatures head, which he had just cloven in half, was reforming.

"Curse you father McCarthy and your boozing," the knight panted as he caught his breath before the onslaught continued.

"Any suggestions Jefferson," Emma asked, her brows knitted in concern. "I think he's getting tired of killing that thing."

"You can't kill it; it's a golem so technically it was never alive in the first place, no more alive than a car," Jefferson returned, a sly grin on his face that melted away as the guardian gave a roar like stone grinding and charged towards them.

Jefferson turned and ran immediately, holding his hat in place as he went while Emma drew her gun and fired at the oncoming threat.

"No you don't," Sir Thomas grunted as he came up behind the guardian and staked its tail to the ground with his sword.

The Guardian had to catch itself with both claws as its tail pulled taunt. It craned its neck around to snarl at the Black Knight.

"That's right, to me," he shouted, waving the his arms!

As the beast turned to resume its attack its tail thrashed violently until it came free, severing the tip in the process. Sir Thomas took note that the tail didn't start to grow back.

"Perhaps it only regenerates after it's killed," he thought.

"Let me rephrase then. Do you know how to make it stop trying to kill us," Emma panted as she reached Jefferson again.

"Oh I know, but it's so rare to see a master at work like this that it would be shame to see it end," the Hatter replied smugly, watching Sir Thomas trade blows with the guardian.

"He can't last forever," Emma almost pleaded, as she watched the Black Knight narrowly escape a swipe of one of the guardian's claw.

"You'll have to come up with something better than that to convince me," Jefferson crooned, his smug little smile not wavering even as he felt to cold barrel of the gun on his temple.

"Convinced," Emma asked?

"Sir Thomas," Jefferson shouted to the knight as he gave Emma a disappointed sideways look! "You need to find its weak spot, it will be glowing!"

"Brilliant," Sir Thomas replied sarcastically, "any idea where this glowing part is?"

"Damned if I know, it's different every time," Jefferson returned.

The Black Knight sighed as he deflected yet another attack form the lumbering beast. Because of its hunched posture and weight the guardian had to balance on one claw while attacking with the other, this gave him an idea.

When the next attack came, the knight ducked under the guardians swiping claw spun around and severed the creatures support arm in one fluid motion. The beast gave a cry of surprise as it tipped over to its side. Before it had time to react, Sir Thomas cut the other arm off above the elbow. The guardian roared and snapped in frustration as its head thrashed helplessly upon the ground. Undaunted, the black knight struck the guardians head with the flat of his sword; while the creature was stunned Sir Thomas placed the heel of his boot on the guardians head to hold it still and drove his sword through its muzzle and into the ground literally pining it down.

"You'd be surprised what you can live through," the knight told the monster as it regained its senses and began to struggle to no avail. Seeming not to care, the Black Knight hoisted himself onto the struggling creatures back. From his new vantage point he quickly noticed a faint glow issuing from one of the guardians hind legs. He climbed down for a closer look and found a glowing glyph like symbol at the base of the leg.

"Right then," Sir Thomas said to himself as he produced a long knife from under his shirt and jabbed it into the center of the glyph. The guardian gave a final muffled roar of defiance and disintegrated into a pile of earth and stone.

Sir Thomas smiled in spite of himself as he wiped the dirt from the knife blade; how long had it been since he had fought a monster? Too long by his estimation.

Passing what used to be the guardian's head he retrieved his sword without breaking stride and returned it to its place on his shoulder.

As he approached his companions he held the knife out to Jefferson. The Hatter looked shocked and began fumbling in his pockets.

"When did you-" he asked the knight?

"Just before we went through the portal," Sir Thomas cut him off, "you should really learn to hide it better."

He shoved the knife butt into the Hatter stomach hard enough to make him grunt.

XXX

Jefferson leaned casually against the door frame as he watched his uninvited guests make their way to Emma's yellow Volkswagen bug.

"Coming," Emma asked Jefferson as the Black Knight continued to the car?

"No, not yet," the Hatter sighed, "think I should tidy up first."

Nodding in understanding Emma turned to leave.

"Sheriff," Jefferson hissed under his breath.

Emma turned around her eyebrows raised inquisitively.

"I wouldn't trust him if I were you," he nodded in the direction of Sir Thomas who was now waiting by the car.

"Don't worry I don't," she replied, "but I guess I'm supposed to trust you then?"

"Certainly not, I wouldn't ask you to trust someone I don't trust myself," the Hatter returned wearing a wolfish grin.

Emma slowly turned away. As she strolled down the walk to join the Black Knight she decided she had been wrong, she would never get used to this.

* * *

**AN**:

Well another chapter done as the past takes shape and the new reality of Storybrooke takes hold.

I imagine many of you are wondering about Regina, who has not made an appearance since chapter one, save of course for the flashbacks. Don't worry this story has her name under it for a reason, the stage just needs to be ready for the leading lady to step unto it. But soon, oh yes not long now.

But for now hope you enjoyed the chapter, maybe tell us what you hate or love about this little tale in the meantime. But for our part, we wish you long days and pleasant nights.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: We own neither Once Upon a Time nor anything referenced hereafter._

* * *

**Broken Things**

Gepetto watched the fairy turned nun walk to the door. She opened it and stopped, glancing back over her shoulders. There was sympathy there, but also steel. And then she was gone the door closing behind her.

Turning away from the door he looked to where Jimminy stood by the bed. Looking down at the wooden man lying there staring at the ceiling with blue painted eyes. Feeling every day his age the woodcarver walked over and sat on the bed looking down at his son.

"I'm sorry. I'll talk to her," the former cricket said. He moved to place a hand on his oldest friends shoulder, but it was brushed away.

"That will do no good. You heard her! She says he was given his chance, at a great price that nearly cost us all everything! She all but said he deserves this! She didn't see him, didn't feel his desperation as the consequences weighed down on him," Gepetto ground out.

"I . . . well I will . . ." the younger man began clearly unsure what he can say.

"Once again, I'm left with nothing but dead wood," the white haired man cursed softly. Jimminy flinched, and pushed his glasses back up his nose.

"Leave me," Gepetto commanded. Though the old man wouldn't see the conscience turned psychiatrist nodded and picked up his umbrella on the way to the door.

"I am sorry," Jimminy said to his old friend before closing the door gently.

Gepetto did not look up until the door closed, behind his best friend. His stomach was already twisting from the cruel words. It wasn't fair, what he had said, and that knowledge only weighed on his misery.

Pulling himself up from his chair, feeling his age for perhaps the first time the wood carver made his way to the bed.

"My boy, what a strong handsome man you grew to be. And a writer! Where did you get all of that? Not from a peasant only good for carving wood," the man spoke a sob lurking between the words.

Stroking the wooden cheek he fought viciously to recall. To hear the voice of the man he had called August, the scent, the posture, all the little things of the man his little wooden boy had grown to be.

The fairy was blind. His boy had made mistakes he would not deny it, nor would the boy if he could say so. The man who had come to him in his humble repair shop had all the look of a lost soul seeking redemption.

The fairy had failed him, she could not bring back his parents then, and now she would do nothing for his son. A tear ran down his cheek hot, then suddenly cold. Chill to the point he wiped from his face with shock.

'What?' he wondered as the tear sucked the warmth from his finger for a few seconds. A knock came from the door. He looked to it and felt the knot in his stomach frost over.

It could be Jimminy, but it wasn't. Despite the dread crawling up his back he walked to the door and laid his hand on the knob. He was surprised it didn't feel the least bit odd. When he opened it, he somehow wasn't surprised by the smiling face on the other side.

"You," the old man whispered.

"Me, may I come in?" Rumpelstiltskin asked.

"What do you want?" Gepetto demanded.

"Why to come in of course. You did call me after all," the wizard smiled.

"I did not-" Gepetto objected but stopped looking at that grin, and back to the bed. He stepped aside.

"There that wasn't so hard, and what have we here, a big wooden man?" Rumpelstiltdskin asked with mock puzzlement. He reached out to touch the painted eyes, only to have Gepetto grab his wrist.

The hand pulled back as if burned and the enchanter looked at him without mirth.

"I will forgive that, since you are in mourning.

"How nostalgic, you are left to grieve over a piece of wood that was a person. Though this time it's the Blue Fairy unwilling rather than unable to help. Never could stand fairies, always acting so high and mighty. Pretending to wisdom and entitlement they neither possess nor deserve," Rumpelstliskin rumbled.

"How dare you come here, after what you did?" Gepetto demanded.

"I've done a great many things, please be more specific if you want an answer," the dealer remarked leaning down on his cane to look at August's stiff form.

"You killed my parents," the old man hissed. Rumpelstlitskin glanced over his shoulder looking surprised.

"No I didn't," he said. Before Gepetto swallowed his shock at the denial the enchanter continued.

"I gave young Jimminy the potion so he could rid himself of _his_ parents. I was very clear on how he was to use it too. It's not my fault he botched it, or that his father pulled a gypsy switch. And besides, aren't you a bit old to be whining over mummy and daddy?" Rumpelstiltskin said free hand hovering over the covered chest of the wooden man.

"Get out!" Gepetto demanded reddening.

"Oh calm down, I came to talk about the future not the past. Specifically, the young liars future," the broker shook his head standing back up.

"The blue fairy-"

"The Blue fairy is not the only one with magic. And my magic does not care if he deserves another chance or not," Rumpelstlitskin said. The wood carver said nothing, not looking at him. Walking to the window and looking out on the town.

"You know, I have a son," Rumpelstiltskin admitted.

" . . . You?"

"Is that so hard to believe? If a little wooden boy can grow up into Mr. Booth here, is it so unbelievable that I was not always what I am?" the Dark One demanded, though he didn't sound truly offended.

"Where is he?" Gepetto asked warily.

"Ah, that's the rub. I lost him you see, to the Blue Fairy. So you see I know something of where you are now. I know a father, will do anything to get his son back," the long haired man said walking up behind Gepetto putting hand on his shoulder.

"You can bring him back? But my parents," Gepetto frowned, but the dark one could see that light in the old man's eyes through the glass.

"Yes. You see the cases are different. Your parents were turned into dead wood, and dead is dead. But Pinocchio, you crafted him from the wood of an enchanted tree, made him to walk and dance without strings. The Blue fairy gave him a soul, and he earned living flesh by saving your life at his own risk.

"Since he was wood to start with and magical wood crafted by your blessed hands at that, well he's not dead dead. He's only mostly dead. And mostly dead I can work with.

"That is if you are willing to work with me," Rumpelstiltskin whispered into his ear. He stepped back letting the old man look out over Storybrooke. Eventually Gepetto spoke.

"What could I have that you could possibly want?" he said finally.

"Modesty, how refreshing.

"It's not what you have I have an interest in dearie, it's what you can do. Not just any puppet could be given a soul and hold it. And even with an enchanted tree to work with no one else could make a wardrobe that could let two souls escape the Dark Curse and pierce the veil.

"I want you Gepetto, your power and talents, for what I want when I want it. In exchange, your son gets his life back, no strings attached."

"No pun intended," the enchanter smiled.

"I should throw you out. It won't be like you say," Gepetto muttered.

"I have no interest in Mr. Booth. He did me a bad turn, but I consider his dire straits payment enough. He gets a life without conditions, and I get you as my craftsman of enchantment."

"As for throwing me out. You could, but you won't," Mr. Gold smiled, his true countenance seeming to peek through. He held out his hand, Gepetto took it wincing as the other man's grin widened.

"Excellent choice. Now I need some time to prepare. And I will be needing a good faith payment first. I have a certain property in my possession in need of repair," Rumpelstiltskin said. He let go of the old man's had, who looked at it as if he had just pulled it out of a toilet.

"Bring it to my shop," he muttered.

"Not just yet. There's more going on than just your problems. But don't fret I will be along, and once you finish this first job, I will keep my end. That's a promise, from one father to another," the enchanter said solemnly.

With a fond farewell, he turned and left. Leaving Gepetto with a wooden man, and a cloudy heart.

**XXX**

"Where am I," a young girl asked herself.

"Home," she answered herself.

Her vision began to clear; she was looking down from a high vantage point, a tower, her home. Below her, a beautiful lake stretched far into the distance only to give way to dense forest, a picturesque site, but her attentions were elsewhere. She stared directly down from the top of the tower to the two broken forms in the water below; her stepmother and her lover.

To her left was the bow that she had used just minutes before to slay the lecherous prince. To her right lay her father, surrounded by a pool of his own blood the hilt of the prince's sword protruding from his chest. The way his dead eyes stared at her made her squirm, she hastily looked back to the two in the lake.

This was much more serine, how they moved gracefully with the waves it was like they were dancing.

Looking at them reminded her of a saying, was it a song or a nursery rhyme? She couldn't remember.

"Down here, we all float," she said, startled by the sound of her own voice in the silence.

She looked up and took in the entirely of her surroundings. A new day had dawned; the chatter of insects was giving way to bird song. Didn't they know what had happened here? How they mocked her with their gleeful songs.

She took a deep breath and released slowly. Shock was wearing off, she was alone, and she would be for the rest of her life. She felt misery tighten in her chest, choking off any though of tears.

She felt a drop of rain on her face. She looked up, blinking.

"Rain," she said, "but there's not a-"

And another drop hit her face, and another and another.

Elle Janson squinted in the morning light, wiping the water from her face with the sleeve of her green military jacket.

"Just a dream," she told herself, knowing that it wasn't really true.

Her joints creaked as she stretched and looked up at the train trestle that she had called home for the last few days. She could see the crack in the stone where the water had come from, probably left over from last night's rain, but still she'd stayed dry enough.

She'd always loved this place, with its weathered stones and moss; she used to play here when she was little, would put pennies on the track so the train would squash them when it passed. But she had never been a little girl here, and these tracks had never seen a train.

"If I followed them they'd probably just end somewhere in the woods," Elle thought to herself, surprised at how sad this made her feel.

She sighed and produced a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket of her jacket and tapped one out.

"Rats," she thought, "almost out."

Elle decided that that issue could wait till later. She placed the cigarette in the corner of her mouth and made to light it when…

"You know those are bad for you," came a woman's voice.

Elle turned her head to see none other than the new Sheriff… what's her name, standing at the edge of the tree line, on foot propped up on rock like she was posing for some great outdoors catalog. Instead of being startled, Elle held out the beat up pack of Poll Malls in offering.

"No thanks, gave those up," the sheriff rejected slowly coming closer.

"Quitter," Elle rasped under her breath as she lit up.

"Elle right," the Blonde woman asked stopping short. Elle didn't answer.

"Your parents are worried."

"Not my real parents," Elle replied looking at the ground and blowing smoke from her nostril.

Emma looked the girl over. Her parents had used the word emo to describe her, guess that was the new word for goth. She had about a dozen piercings that she could see most of them in her ears save the ones in her nose eyebrow and lower lip, her hair was platinum blond streaked with black. She didn't look like she belonged to the Jansens, they looked like they'd just walked off the set of "Leave it to Beaver". What an odd family photo they must have made.

"So I guess you're here to take me home," Elle droned offering her wrists for handcuffs.

"I could Emma," replied, "but would you stay?"

Again, Ell didn't answer.

"This is more of a checkup, make sure you're alive and in one piece."

"Also, I brought food," Emma added hopefully, holding up a greasy brown paper bag.

**XXX**

Emma's mind wandered as she watched a drop of ketchup land on the happy face patch Elle had sown on the front of her jacket. The little face just kept on smiling, unaware of its misfortune. The jacket was a patch work of self-expression covered in various symbols; general's stars, sergeant strips, pilot wings, a peace sign, the happy face (now red stained), a German flag, a mushroom, a heart pierced by an arrow…

"She'll probably replace those with tattoos in a few years," Emma thought, realizing much to her chagrin that by that time Henry would be a teenager too.

Elle wipe her mouth gracelessly, as she finished her third hamburger. She seemed healthy enough, just dirty and hungry, though a few more nights out in the rain would probably change that.

"So I hear you were in prison, ever make someone your bitch," she asked Emma as if this was a normal question?

"Nope," Emma replied.

"You sure? What about that frumpy teacher you live with," Elle smirked.

"No, no, god no," Emma answered vehemently.

This answer seemed to offend Elle.

"Oops, guess I should have played along a bit more," Emma thought. "She couldn't know how wrong that would be."

Elle crumpled up the burger wrapper and dropped it into the bag.

"Well sheriff, I guess you've got bad guys to catch."

"Actually I do," Emma answered, "it's not as safe out here as it used to be. So I'll ask just oce, are you sure you don't want to go home?"

"No," Elle replied without her usual jaded sarcasm, "that whole life was fake, I don't belong there."

"Alright, but if you ever change your mind or need help you know where to find me."

Emma began to turn to leave then stopped. She turned back to Elle with a quizzical look on her face.

"One last thing, what's your real name, the Jansens didn't know it."

Elle sighed as if she had been waiting for this question, and dreading it.

"Unless you're a real Fairy Tale buff I doubt you've ever heard of me."

"Could you at least give me a hint?"

"You know the one where it all works out and everyone lives happily ever after," Elle asked?

Emma nodded, unsure of herself.

"That's not my story," Elle concluded, tapping her cigarette out on a rock.

Dissatisfied, Emma turned again to leave.

"Sheriff."

Emma stopped and turned again.

"Thanks… for the food," the girl said a bit begrudgingly.

Elle rose to her feet, grabbing the backpack she had been using as a pillow and set out into the woods beyond the trestle. Emma stood and watched her go; how many times had she done the same thing when she was a kid, walked away from people trying to help her.

As the troubled girl vanished into the tree line, Emma found herself coming back to a pointless detail; on the back of her jacket Elle had sown on a pair of angel's wings.

**XXX**

Sir Thomas paced back and forth in the vicery. The rest of the town was likely asleep in their beds, but he could find no rest. It had been nearly a week since he had helped the queen escape and there had been nothing from her since. The others awaited her return with some combination for excitement and fear, their next chance to capture the villain, but to him her absence was just… worrisome.

He stopped his pacing as his eyes lighted on a pile of clothes. He sighed, and rolled his eyes, it seemed that even in times such as these chores still needed to be done. He began gathering the clothes and placing them in a basket, perhaps some busy work would be a welcome distraction.

He was considering the distinct lack of variety in father McCarthy's wardrobe, when he felt something in a pocket. Puzzled he reached inside and produced a cell phone. Sir Thomas raised an eyebrow; he'd forgotten that father McCarthy had one of these.

"A priest with a cell phone," he laughed mirthlessly to himself, "What's this world coming to?"

Still smiling to himself he looked it over; it was plain and a bit out of date, not unlike himself. He opened it with his thumb, and saw to his shock that he had an unread text message.

He opened the message, it had been sent three days ago. His blood went cold as read the contact it had come form:

The Mayor.

* * *

**AN:**

_A short transitory chapter. But then Next chapter we have quite a reunion as Emma and her allies start to probe the bounds of the curse. And of course our favorite Broker is plotting something._


End file.
